(I'm on the) Highway to Hell
by iclethea
Summary: When the chips are down, all bets are off. Dean decided to take on Metatron alone, which led to hid death. Now the Mark of Cain has turned him into a demon. Now what?


Dean knew pain, he knew every damn inch of it. He'd felt it over his past 35 years of life. He'd been shot, hit by cars, broken almost every bone in his body, ripped apart by Hellhounds as he screamed for death, even poisoned by a damn taco. But he'd never died from a stab wound.

Until now, that is.

Dean glared at Metatron, the bastard who had done so much in one year to ruin humanity and the Host of Heaven. Metatron had taken Castiel's Grace, ordered Kevin to be killed. Rage coursed through the hunter's veins. It was like Azazel all over again, hell, even Lilith, Lucifer and Dick friggin Roman. They all had killed someone he and Sam loved. Speaking of Sam, where the hell was he? He'd knocked his little brother out, but he knew it was a mistake. Still, his younger brother should be awake now.

"So, you took Abaddon's scalp, then you figured you'd take on little old nebbishy me. What could go wrong?" Metatron asked with a sardonic smile as he slammed hit foot down on Dean's wrist. The snap echoed in the large warehouse, along with Dean's groan of pain.

"And you're powered by the bone of a jackass, and it is just awesome, right? Here's a tip - next time, try to be powered by the word of God" Metatron continued, his foot lifting from Dean's wrist, only to kick him in the chest. Dean had the air knocked out of his lungs, winded. His heartbeat was thumping in his ears, adrenaline coursing.

Metatron lifted him up, only to slam his fists into Dean's face repeatedly, his head flying from left to right from the blows. He could feel the breaking of skin and the warm dripping of blood down his face, and strangely, it sent a wave of hunger through him, the Mark of Cain burning. All he could do was to keep Metatron distracted while Cas and Gadreel found the Angel Tablet. He kept punching him, and then he lifted Dean's face to look at him. Another power filled punch sent Dean's head flying to the side, body slumping. He was holding onto consciousness by a thread. He caught sight of the First Blade, lying on a grate, just out of his reach. His arm extended, fingers trembling from pain, and after a second of tension, it slid into his hand. He turned his body.

That's when it happened. Metatron had gotten his Angel Blade out. Dean's eyes widened slightly as the Blade sliced into his chest, through muscle and bone, into his most vital organ. Dean wanted to scream, to fight, but he couldn't move, and the only sounds coming from his throat was his harsh, struggled gasps, chokes of pain. He saw Metatron smile, and the Blade twisted inside Dean's chest. The gasps became more sickening, and is body was trembling, already going into shock.

"NOO!" he heard Sam scream from the other side of the warehouse. Dean gasped for air as Metatron slid the Blade from his chest, leaving Dean's blood to pour. His eyes were swivelling, from Metatron, to Sam. He found his little brother, and his head hit the wall behind him, strength draining. His body fell limp, head crashing against the cool concrete as his eyes stared, barely able to focus on anything. He felt familiar hands grab him, lifting him upright. Sam.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. Hey," Sam babbled. Dean's eyes shot open, as the warehouse began to tremble, as if in an earthquake. That's all Dean needed now. The shooting pain in his heart had risen, and his chest was heaving for oxygen. Sam turned, letting out a roar as he tried to kill Metatron, but he had disappeared. Sam dropped to Dean's side, pressing a rag to his older brother's chest as Dean's breath hitched at the agony it caused, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Sammy, you got to get out of here before he comes back," Dean gasped out, his voice weak, breaking in several places. Blood was pooling in his mouth, dripping down his chin as if he were a toddler, and it joined the rest of the blood on his face.

"Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh. Shut up. Shut up," Sam said, breathing rapid in his panic. "Just save your energy, all right? Oh, man. We'll stop the bleeding. We'll - we'll get you a doctor or-or I'll find a spell. You're gonna be okay," he assured, but it did nothing to help Dean's emotions. He knew he was going to die. People don't survive injuries like this, and he knew that Sam was aware, but in complete denial. Sam's hand grabbed his and pressed them both to Dean's chest and he cried out in pain.

"Listen to me. It's better this way," Dean gasped out, mouth still filled with blood. He wondered how he wasn't dead yet, but his heart kept going, thumping weakly. _Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump. _It was echoing in his ears, a constant reminder he was dying, as if the pain wasn't enough. The blood was still flowing, dyeing his clothes a deep maroon.

"What?!" Sam replied in shock.

"The Mark. It's making me into something I don't want to be," the elder Winchester replied in a gasping voice. It was true, he knew it. Crap like this didn't come without a price. A big one. Why the _hell _hadn't he listened to Cain?! Oh yeah, he was a stubborn bastard.

"Don't worry about the Mark. We'll figure out the Mark later. Just hold on, okay? Get you some help," Sam replied rapidly, pulling Dean's arm over his shoulder and hoisting him up as Dean moaned in agony, chest seeming to rip into flame.

They stumbled along together, Dean leaning heavily on his little brother. Sam was struggling to keep Dean upright, adrenaline forcing him to keep moving. John had always told Dean to take care of his brother, and now it was Sam's turn. _Save Dean, save Dean, save Dean,_ ran through his mind, a constant mantra. Dean was gasping for breath, face pale under the blood. Sam's hand pressed over his brother's, holding the rag to his bleeding chest.

"What happened with you being okay with this?" Dean asked.

"I lied," Sam stated, and it was true. All those months ago, when he had told Dean he wouldn't save him if he was dying, was a lie. Of course he would help his brother. He had just felt betrayed, after finding out about Gadreel.

"Ain't that a bitch?" gasped Dean, teeth gritted as he slumped a little. They continued moving toward the exit, Dean stumbling. His pain was growing, yet in a way, it was fading. _This is it _he realised. There was so much he hadn't said to Sammy. This was his only chance.

"Sam. Hold up. Hold up," he groaned out. Sam sat him on a piece of equipment, as the elder looked at him, fresh blood coating his lips. He could feel it in his throat, almost completely cutting off his limited breathing. Each beat of his heart sent waves of pain through him, the punctured organ struggling. "I got to say something to you."

"What?" Sam asked, keeping his sibling upright. Dean raised a shaking, pale hand and patted Sam's cheek as he looked him in the eye.

"I'm proud of us," he stated, teeth stained red. Tears filled Sam's eyes as he stared into his brother's fading emerald irises. Dean's hand fell from his sibling's face, and his eyelids drooped slightly. His weight fell against Sam's, his heart beating one last time as his eyes slid shut.

The pain stopped, but strangely, Dean was still aware, in his body. No Reaper to take him, not like the other times. It was disorienting. What was happening to him. He was dead, no heartbeat, or breathing. Yet he could feel the warmth of Sam's arms as he lifted his face.

"No, no. Hey, hey, hey. Hey, wake up, buddy," He said softly, cradling his face, shaking him lightly.

"Hey. Dean." He said, blood running cold. _No, no! _"DEAN!" he yelled, voice breaking and his breath hitching. He then felt the sensation of being pulled against his brother, head laying on his chest as it began to tremble with sobs. Sam buried his head in Dean's shoulder, emitting heart wrentching sobs as he clutched his brother closer. Dean wanted nothing more than to help his brother, tell him he was still here, but for some screwed up reason, he was locked inside his body, unable to move.

Sam continued to sob for what felt like hours, rocking Dean's body and clinging to the last piece of family he had left. Dean was actually _gone. _No Angels to bring him back this time. His fingers twisted in Dean's short hair as tears continued to flow down his cheeks. He knew he had to move, but if he did, seeing Dean go limp without his support would break him. Make it real. He couldn't bear it. He looked at his big brother's pale face, eyes closed, blood congealing on his lips.

"It's okay Dean, you're okay now," he gasped out, choked. His palm laid against Dean's chest and a choked sob escaped his mouth, feeling nothing. Dean felt a rush of sadness as he heard his brother's heartbreak. He was tucked against Sam's chest, his heart pounding against Dean's shoulder.

"Dean..." Sam choked out. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you..." He touched his forehead to his brothers, tears streaking down his face

"I'll get you back. I promise, I will get you back," Sam choked out "Come on, I'll take you home."

Sam lifted Dean into his arms, and began to walk out of the building. Dean's head rested against the crook of his neck, and Sam held him closer, spotting the homeless people outside, glaring as they approached.

"Yeah..." he stated, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he grimaced. "Your "God" killed him."

"Served him right! He insulted Marv!" one of the women yelled, and Sam felt a rush of rage fill him.

"Don't you dare!" he snarled in reply, and he winces as Dean's head was jostled, falling to the side, facing the others "Like I have time to deal with you people," he growled, tucking Deans head back up gently. Sam walked ahead, carrying Dean's body. Nobody offered Sam help as he carried his big brother back to the Impala. The last time, Sam had Bobby to help him carry Dean from the house, after the Hellhounds had shredded him to pieces. Now there was no one. He was alone. The last one, finished. Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Rufus, John, they were all gone.

"One last ride, huh?" Sam choked out, voice breaking as he gathered Dean into the back seat, putting his own jacket under Dean's head, as if he wound feel the comfort. Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean felt a rush of gratitude for his brother's actions. Sam slid into the front seat, sighing. He started the ignition, and took off as tears began to course down his cheeks.

"I screwed up big time Dean..." He said, voice hollow. "I couldn't protect you I should have done more I'm sorry." The shrill sound of his phone began playing, and Sam hit 'accept' with a harsh tap.

"What?" he snapped harshly, his voice breaking.

"Sam?" Castiel's voice sounded from the speaker.

"Cas?" Sam replied in surprise.

"Metatron has been imprisoned," Cas reported, and Sam felt a short burst of relief and anger.

"He bolted back upstairs?" Sam asked.

"Yes... Gadreel is dead."

"Dead? How?"

"He sacrificed himself," Cas replied. Then his voice turned sombre. "Sam, Metatron told me..."

"About Dean...?" Sam finished, wincing as he spoke the name.

"Sam, is he really..?" Cas replied, his gravelly voice rough.

"Yeah," Sam stated, his voice thick as he looked back at Dean in the rear view mirror. "Cas, he's gone. Metatron stabbed him in the heart."

"I can't believe it.." Cas choked out. Sam took a deep breath.

"Just give me some time... please..." Sam begged. He needed to be alone, and he had to prepare Dean for... he cut off that thought with a shudder, but it was inevitable.

"I don't know…." Cas replied, unsure.

"Please Cas…" Sam pleaded. He needed this.

"Are you sure you should be alone right now?" Cas asked.

"I need to get him cleaned up," Sam replied simply.

"Okay Sam."

"Bye Cas." Sam ended the call and shut the phone off, taking out the battery. He needed to be alone right now.

"I'll sort Cas out later Dean," he said. "You're more important." His heart skipped a beat at that moment. "Yours should be beating…. Not mine." Sam had thought this for a long time. Dean deserved to live more than he did. It was simple, no arguments about it. Dean was the pure one, the good son, the soldier. He was the pissy teenager who never followed anyone and thought the sun shone out of his ass. Sam's eyes travelled to Dean, laying till in the back.

"You always said you'd haunt me if I messed with the Impala," Sam continued. _Maybe this could work_, he thought as he plugged in an iPod dock. "I wouldn't mind…" he finished laughing humourlessly.

_I'm sorry Sammy…_ Dean thought.

"I mean," Sam continued. "Having a ghost for a brother is better than nothing right?" His voice broke as he talked, and he sighed. "It's not fair Dean… you've left. I need you back. Don't leave me here alone… please," he begged, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Please…." Silent sobs escaped his lips, eyes blurring slightly.

"I can't do this without you. I guess you aren't coming back. I'm proud of us too. I didn't get to say that earlier so.." he trailed off. Two hours passed then in silence, as Sam drove, eyes locked on the road. He needed to think about anything other than the corpse in the back seat. Eventually, he pulled up outside the Bunker, which Dean had dubbed the 'Bat Cave'.

"Home sweet home Dean," Sam said softly as he exited the classic car, and opened the back door, slipping his arms under Dean's knees and torso.

"I know you would probably give me hell for this," Sam stated, imagining Dean's pissed face.

_Damn straight Sammy... _Dean thought. He hated being carried, although it couldn't be helped.

"I just can't carry you the manly way I guess," Sam sighed as he brought Dean to the bathroom.

"I'll get you patched up Dean. Good as new," he said as he ran the water in the sink, gathering cloths and sponges after he had laid Dean down. Softly, he brought the wet rag to Dean's face, wiping the blood away with gentle movements. The blood was already congealing, and Sam fought an urge to vomit. Sure he had a strong stomach, but this was _Dean _he was cleaning up. He kept working mindlessly, slipping Dean's leather jacket off, manoeuvring the stiff limbs. Eventually he finished, lifting his brother back into his arms, and brought him to his bedroom.

"Here we go Dean," he said softly as he laid him gently on the bed, tears in his eyes. "You always loved this room." He looked around, and his eyes landed on the photo of Mary and Dean on the dresser, Dean's young face and his mother's beautiful one grinning. "Say hi to Mom for me..."

_I will Sammy, once I see her, _Dean thought with an air of frustration. What the hell was happening?

"I'm so sorry Dean," Sam sighed rubbing his face and his head slipped into his hands. After a moment his hands curled into fists. "I need you back Dean," he choked.

_I know Sammy... _Dean thought with an internal sigh.

"I'm gonna miss you man... I love you big brother..." Sam spoke softly, saying the 'L' word that wasn't mentioned much in the Winchester family.

_Way to get mushy little brother, _Dean thought fondly. He'd always loved that about his brother. Sam was softer than him, more emotion, not the bitter, emotionless man Dean had become. Sam gently patted Dean's shoulder and left the room. He went to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and poured a shot.

"Drinking again..." Sam mused bitterly as he downed it in one. "Why shouldn't I drink?" It took a while, but Sam eventually went to the Bunker's dungeon, where Dean had been placed earlier. The ingredients to summon Crowley were still on the floor, scattered.

"Damn it Crowley," Sam growled. His eyes were still red as he looked at the objects. "You got him into this mess. You will get him out... or so help me, God."

Back in Dean's room, Dean had the impression that someone was watching him. The figure cast a shadow over him and spoke in a familiar English accent.

"Your brother, bless his soul, is summoning me as I speak. Make a deal, bring you back," Crowley said, and Dean felt a surge of hate fill him.

_Get out of here you son of a bitch! _Dean thought. But Crowley just kept talking.

"It's exactly what I was talking about, isn't it? It's all become so... expected. You have to believe me. When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental." The longer Crowley kept talking the more Dean could feel it. It started from his fingers and toes, his humanity fading bit by bit. And pretty soon he could feel nothing at all, no anger, no pain, no happiness... just nothing. But he could still hear every word that Crowley said.

"But...there is one story about Cain that I might have... forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the Blade. He died. Except, as rumour has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me... No, it wasn't truly until you left that cheeseburger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true."

Dean couldn't even process the fact that Crowley had lied to him, _again. _He just felt the fading more and more. _Guess I'm dying... finally _Dean thought. Were the Reapers on strike or something. Oh yeah... Tessa. No doubt the Reapers were staying away. But why hadn't he left his body yet? He'd been dead for hours now. It seemed as if a poison were moving through him, draining his emotions, his humanity. He felt Crowley open his right palm, and place the First Blade in it. He bent his arm upward, laying his fist and the Blade on his chest.

"Listen to me, Dean Winchester, what you're feeling right now - it's not death. It's life - a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon," Crowley said and suddenly, Dean found the strength to move. Finally!

He opened his eyes. It was weird, as if a dark film was over his eyes. Crowley spoke.

"Hello beautiful" he said, and he could hear the grin in the former King's voice. "Nice to see you awake."

"Crowley..." Dean growled. "You lied..."

"No, I never lied to you. I just withheld information. Sorry bout that." Crowley smiled back. Crowley looked different, his face,,, it was hideous.

"Like hell you are!" Dean snarled, slamming Crowley into the wall and pushing the First Blade against his neck.

"Ah ah..." Crowley smirked. "Wouldn't hurt your boss, would you?" he asked, forcing the Blade away.

"You ain't my boss," Dean scowled, fighting against him.

"You sure about that?" Crowley asked, pointing to the mirror.

"What in the hell-" Dean trailed off as he caught sight of his reflection, more importantly, his eyes. They were demonic black, standing out among the pale, injured skin. He stared in shock.

"Bingo with the Hell comment," Crowley declared.

"Shut up!" Dean yelled glaring at Crowley.

"May want to change your eyes there," the King advised.

"Why?" Dean asked. "Sam's gonna know something's wrong as soon as he sees me."

"Look, all I'm saying is that if you want to tell him, you better do it before your humanity leaves completely."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"You're still turning. The last part anyway," Crowley answered.

"Oh," Dean stated.

"Sam heard your voice. He's coming. I'd change your eyes if I were you," Crowley told him. Sure enough, he could hear his little brother moving towards his bedroom.

"Good. Great," Dean replied, looking to the mirror, his mind still whirling. He was a _demon._ The things he had killed his entire life, hell the reason his mother was dead. He looked to the photo on the dresser and sighed. _I'm sorry Mom... _ He looked back to his reflection, concentrating as he pictures his green eyes. The black faded, revealing the green he was so used to.

"Good lad," Crowley smirked

"Shut the hell up you dick," Dean fumed.

"Mind your blood pressure..." Crowley simpered  
"Not much point, seeing as I haven't got a pulse anymore," Dean scowled.

"Guess not."

"Dean?!" Sam's shocked tone sounded from the doorway, where he stood, eyes wide.

"Hey Sam..." Dean smiled a little.

"You're alive..." Sam breathed and he moved, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Yeah... sort of," Dean replied, looking at Crowley.

"Crowley?" Sam asked.

"Hello Moose," the former King replied, and Dean fought an urge to roll his eyes, not wanting to risk it.

"I've spent the last hour...!" Sam growled.

"I decided to pay my respects first," Crowley said simply.

"How are you alive?" Sam asked Dean ignoring Crowley.

"The Mark.." Dean stated. Sam looked at him, confusion in his hazel eyes.

"What?"

"Cain tried to kill himself once before and the Mark brought him back," Crowley explained, as if talking to a one year old. "Why don't you do the tests? You know, the Winchester reunion ones."

"I don't believe you!" Sam glared, slamming Crowley into the wall.

"Calm down and just do the tests Moose," Crowley replied.

Sam's heart pounded as he turned back to Dean, pulling out his small flask of Holy water

and spraying it, small drops flying onto Dean's skin. It burned, and Dean cried out in pain. If that wasn't enough to stop Sam's heart cold, he watched his brother's eyes blacken.

"Dean?" Sam asked, ice water rushing through his veins.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean groaned, trying to wipe it off. "Is that what I've been doing to you people?!"  
"Yes. Not so nice, is it?" Crowley asked.

"No, it hurts!" Dean scowled. He looked up into his horrified brother's eyes. The pain faded and he spoke.

"I'm sorry Sam," he said, looking down as his eyes changed back to normal

"Get out," Sam said, glaring at Crowley. He turned to his brother. "It's okay Dean"  
"But Dean hasn't gone through the demon trainee handbook," Crowley smirked.

"He said get out!" Dean yelled.

"Fine," Crowley scowled. "Call me when you're ready to chat some more," he said before he vanished. Sam looked at his brother, misery in his expression.

"How can you be okay with this?" Dean asked.

"I just don't want you dead..." Sam replied. He remembered just hours ago, clutching Dean's body. He shuddered.

"Yeah, you said having a ghost for a brother would be better than nothing. So how is being a demon the same as that?" Dean asked.

"You heard me..?" Sam said in surprise.

"Yeah. I heard everything," Dean replied, going over to the window.

"I'll help you Dean. I swear. I'm not letting you stay like this," Sam assured.

"What can you do Sam?!" Dean exploded. "Cure me?! If you do that, you die!"

"We will figure something out," Sam replied, watching Dean's eyes fill to black again. Dean felt it. The evil. He smiled,

"I wouldn't be so sure" he smirked. "Bitch..." The malice in his tone masked the familiar joke, making it sinister, foreign. A growl left his throat, and he pushed Sam out of his way roughly.

"Like to see you try," he mocked as he left.

"Dean?!" Sam called, sprinting after him. He found his brother at the front of the Bunker, just about to leave.

"Let me go... " Dean said calmly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Just stay here Dean, please," Sam begged.

"No..." the elder Winchester growled, shaking off his brother's grip on his arm. Sam suddenly cried out in pain, and Dean smiled, raising his hand as Sam screamed again. Dean was torturing him.

"I told you to leave me alone," Dean growled.

"Dean... please..." Sam begged through a mouthful of blood.

"Just leave me alone!" Dean roared, tightening his fist and Sam screamed in response.

"Dean!" Sam gasped out though the pain. "I'm your brother! Please! Remember who you are!"

"I can only remember who I was" Dean smiled, his eyes turning black. "This is who I am now."

"Please Dean!" Sam choked, coughing blood as he struggled to breathe.

"I'm a demon now. I'd better start acting like one. No point in being something that you're not," Dean said. He was quickly getting tired of the monologuing. He looked at Sam who was doubled over in pain.

"De... Dean," Sam groaned. "This isn't you..."

"I know it isn't." A sliver of hope flashed in Sam's eyes as he looked into Dean's lifeless black ones.

"It's not the old me," Dean continued. "It's the new me." He held his hand out and Sam flew into the wall, blood pooling on his lips.

"J-ust d-o it..." Sam gasped out.

"I don't want to hurt you Sam. But you leave me no choice," Dean growled.

"Just end it..." Sam choked, barely able to breathe, feeling hopeless. The real Dean was gone, never to come back. Dean hesitated slightly. _Could he really kill his own flesh and blood? He could be useful later on._ He looked at Sam who was pulling in shuddering, weak breaths.

"Just kill me you demonic son of a bitch!" Sam said as loud as he could, attempting to goad him into action. Dean growled and Sam continued.

"I know that you aren't my brother..." Sam smiled, his teeth stained with blood. "Dean would've finished me off by now." His smirk grew slightly at Dean's glare. "Just end it! That way Mom can have one of us with her."

"Yeah yeah Sammy..." Dean sneered.

"Don't call me that!" Sam snarled, grimacing as he coughed up blood. "Only Dean can call me that!"

"Bye Sam," Dean smiled.

"I'm sorry..." Sam gasped, looking Dean straight in the eyes. Dean looked straight into the hazel irises, not caring. Sam would only hold him back. He was a demon after all. Demons didn't have family. Sam tensed in agony as Dean held his hand out again. Sam clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the screams of pain, his face contorted with agony. His breathing was getting fainter. He just wanted it over.

"I'm s..." Sam gasped. His face spasmed in pain for the last time before his head fell limp. Dean smiled. He let Sam's body drop.

"Night Sam."

Dean Winchester left the Men of Letters Bunker, eyes black. If only his parents could see Sam and him now. One dead, and the other, well, he was too far gone.


End file.
